


The Care and Keeping of Endangered Avians

by scifihobbit



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifihobbit/pseuds/scifihobbit
Summary: Quark's got a scheme (when doesn't he?) to make profit on selling exotic wildlife. When Odo puts a stop to it (when doesn't he?) things take a turn neither of them anticipated. This particular rare animal has a very strong imprinting instinct and now Quark and Odo are stuck caring for a fragile fledgling.As fluffy as fluff can be when the two people involved are chronically incapable of discussing--or even recognizing--their feelings.
Relationships: Odo/Quark (Star Trek)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25
Collections: Quodo Mini-fest





	1. A Mistaken Imprinting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlightandpinot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightandpinot/gifts).



> Man, this story got away from me, and a goofy little idea turned into so many words. I hope you enjoy it!

“Quuaaark!” Odo strode into the bar. Or, he would have, if he hadn’t been holding a large and bulky box in front of him. As it was, he stumbled over to the bar more than he walked over to it and set the box onto the countertop with a grunt and a thump. Morn looked over at it, and up at Odo, and returned to his drink.

“Yes, constable?” Quark used his quiet, wheedling voice and walked over slowly.

“What is this?” Odo demanded.

Three quick squawks emerged from the box. It was made of gray plastic and six airholes were cut out of the top. Morn looked at the box again with slightly more curiosity, refining its label from “box” to “cage,” and then turned back to his drink.

“I’m sure I don’t know.” Quark had reached Odo now, and he stood on the other side of the cage, trying his innocent face, even though it never once worked on Odo, who always presumed guilt until innocence was proven. Still, for Quark it was the principle of the thing, not to mention the comforting and familiar groove of their usual sparring matches.

“What is it?” Quark asked.

“You know very well—” a very loud and slightly prolonged squawk came from the box, interrupting Odo mid-sentence. Once the cage’s contents had quieted Odo continued. “—what it is. It was Broik’s name on the receiving slip. You made him sign for it.”

“Broik!” Quark shouted.

The Ferengi waiter looked up from where he was cleaning a table and trotted over. “Yes, boss?”

“What is this?” Quark demanded, gesturing broadly at the gray plastic cube.

“What?”

“What is this?” Quark asked again, hissing slightly, and tilting his head quickly in a gesture that suggested Broik had a line he’d forgotten.

Broik stared at Quark blankly for a moment, and then, “Oh! Oh, it’s a gift for my brother on Ferenginar. A, uh, a, um,” Broik’s face looked pained as he tried to remember a noun that he’d heard Quark say once when he’d been assigned this little monologue, “a radid! It’s a radid. For my brother. He just got promoted.”

“Hmph,” was—unsurprisingly—Odo’s response. “I see. And where did you get the latinum for a radid?”

“I’ve got investments.” Broik jutted out his chin. “And of course Quark pays a fair wage.”

“Of course,” Odo agreed, eyeing Quark as intensely as he ever did. Quark, for his part, lounged behind the bar with a beguiling and self-satisfied smile on his face. Trusting Broik to do anything useful was only a step safer than trusting Rom, but it seemed like it was going to pay off this time.

A series of chirps so shrill they made both Ferengi wince and cover their ears erupted from the box. Morn jumped and almost toppled off his barstool—a seemingly impossible occurrence—and peered at the cage for a third time.

Odo cleared his throat over the sound of the entrapped animal. “And you are, of course, aware that radid’s are an extremely rare and endangered species that are culturally important to the Telerites and therefore their trade across interstellar borders is strictly prohibited.”

Broik gulped and looked at desperately at Quark, who made a quick, little nod.

“No!” Broik almost shrieked. “I had no idea!”

“Broik,” Quark snapped and stepped up to the bar, “this is unacceptable! You know your work visa depends on upstanding and lawful behavior. I will not accept this conduct from my employees. Your pay is docked for the next two weeks.”

“But,” Broik began but Quark shooed him away and he acquiesced easily.

Odo watched this whole performance and rolled his eyes only once.

“Odo,” Quark turned back to the Constable, and slid back into his wheedling voice, “I’m absolutely shocked by this misconduct. Broik’s never been a troublemaker. I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding.”

“I’m sure.”

Four more peeps from the enclosure and something that sounded rather like a hiccup.

“You know,” Quark continued, “I do have a connection at the Klingon animal sanctuary. I believe they have a few radids. I’m sure this one would get along quite nicely there. I can reach out to this contact of mine and see if they have the room for a new addition to their animal family.”

There was another hiccup, and then some frail gasping noises. Odo started to yank the top of the cage off.

“Wait!” Quark yelped. “What are you doing?!”

“It sounds like it’s hurt.”

“Stop!”

But it was too late, Odo had the lid off. The nearly naked radid chick poked its head out of the box and swiveled it on its wobbly, fragile neck around the bar before its huge eyes landed on Quark.

“Oh no. No no no no no,” Quark said. “Odo. What have you done?”

Odo looked up at Quark, his head tilted slightly. “What are you so upset about? It seems your merchandise is just fine.”

“No,” it came out like a moan. “Fledgling radids imprint on the first living thing they see. You come in here acting so superior and knowledgeable and you don’t know that? Of course you don’t. You don’t actually know anything about anything except that it’s always my fault.”

“It is always your fault. What do you mean they imprint?”

“Usually it’s one of their parents they see first. Their mother probably, and to make sure they don’t try to fly out of the nest before they’re able, they imprint on whichever parent it is and won’t leave their side until their feathers have all grown in. Or else they die! Then the other parent brings all the food they need. They’re very stupid babies.”

Odo glanced at the radid. It was making a soft cooing noise and still gazing intently at Quark. Its scrawny wings, barely the size of a combadge, moved feebly up and down a few times. “That seems like very poor evolutionary adaptation.”

“Listen, I don’t know why the Telerites worship the things, but then Telerites aren’t particularly smart either.”

“So I can’t ship it to the proper authorities until it’s capable of flight or it will die?” Odo said slowly, and looked back up at Quark, who just nodded glumly. An expression of comprehension slid onto Odo’s face. “This is just another one of your schemes, isn’t it? I’m not leaving this thing here with you just because you’ve made up some preposterous story about its lifespan.” He heaved the box back up off the bar and started staggering back toward the door.

Quark scurried after him. “Wait! Wait! I’m not lying!”

“That’s what you always say.”

\---

A series of sharp peeps bounced around the walls of Odo’s office. The radid had its head tilted all the way back, its beak pointed at the ceiling and open wide as it let out the seemingly endless stream of noise which echoed around the space. The muscles in its neck were visible straining. It was nestled in Quark’s lap, who slumped in the chair in Odo’s office, his entire body radiating defeat.

Odo had looked at the computer files on radids and found out that, for once, Quark had been telling the truth. The ridiculously fragile things did die if they were separated from whatever they’d imprinted on for more than a few minutes. No wonder they were almost extinct. In Odo’s opinion, they deserved their fate, but that didn’t mean he was going to let Quark get away with this black market deal.

The thing was still peeping. The incessant noise filled Odo’s office.

“What does it want?” Odo demanded.

“It’s probably hungry.” Quark pulled himself out of the chair, radid cradled in the crook of his right arm. “I’ll go to the bar and see if I can find it something to eat.”

“You will not.”

“What do you mean ‘I will not’? You got me into this mess with your incessant prying. You don’t get to tell me what to do now.”

“You got yourself into this by trading in illegal fauna. I’m not letting that… thing out of my sight.”

“But that means,” Quark began.

“Yes.” Odo said simply. “Unfortunately, that means I’m not letting you out of my sight.”


	2. The Right Pajamas

Quark sat in Odo’s office sulking the rest of the day. He’d gotten Broik to bring him over a PADD so at least he could keep an eye on his business from afar, catch up on some correspondence, trade a few stocks, read up on radids. Once the chick had been given some food—which Quark had to carefully drip down its gullet with an eyedropper—it had gotten much quieter, even settled in to nap for awhile.

At the end of the day Odo stood up stiffly, as if there was any part of his body that could be stiff. It was another one of the solid mannerisms he’d practiced to make them feel more at ease. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to my quarters.”

“No.” Quark had been thinking about this. “We’re going to my quarters.” Before Odo could say anything he continued, “I’m the one who sleeps in a bed. I’m the one who has a bed. We’re going to my quarters.” Quark was surprised when Odo didn’t argue.

Still clutched in Quark’s arms the radid stared around the station curiously as their little pod of three walked through it. It cocked its head at the brightly colored banners and squawked at a Bolian they passed. It ruffled its wings anxiously in the turbolift and almost hopped out of Quark’s arms when the lift came to a stop. It raised its beak when the doors to Quark’s quarters slid open, and with his acute hearing Quark could hear the little sniffing noises. It was smelling the air and it cooed happily at the space that Quark’s scent suffused. Quark didn’t know whether to be pleased or disgusted.

The space felt cramped somehow with Odo in it. And Quark, proud of his clutter of collected objects that displayed his profits, felt surprisingly embarrassed. Odo was making himself just a little bit bigger. Quark noticed the way he did that sometimes, puffed himself up a little like one of those timid tree frogs that lived outside Quark’s childhood bedroom on Ferenginar. The smallest interruption to the steady beat of rain and their throat sacs would inflate to half the size of their own body. They’d stay like that, holding their breath, until normalcy resumed, and then they’d let that gulp of air out slowly like nothing had ever bothered them.

“Do you want something to eat?” Quark set the radid down on his couch and walked over to the replicator.

“I don’t eat,” Odo said, as if Quark had forgotten.

The radid joined the conversation by adding a serious of shrill peeps.

“Well, that thing does,” Quark said. “Why don’t you feed it this time? That way at least I won’t be dining alone.” Quark tossed the eyedropper full of the formula Bashir had replicated at Odo.

Sitting delicately on the couch Odo glanced down at the radid which—without stopping its peeping—turned its giant eyes on Odo, wiggled its featherless wings, and reached feebly out with one claw, like it was trying to grab at the eyedropper Odo held.

“Ow,” Quark said, holding his ears. “Feed it! Feed it! That thing is going to be the death of my lobes!”

Odo scooped the radid up and tilted the eyedropper carefully towards its beak. “You can’t keep calling it a thing.”

“Why not?” Quark demanded, balancing a plate of slug steak and a glass of snail juice, as he settled into the stuffed velvet armchair across from the couch.

“Because she’s not a thing, she’s a—”

Quark stared at Odo and the wide-eyed expression he was making at the scrawny naked avian in his lap.

“A what?” Chewing his slug steak viciously Quark waited for Odo to respond, Odo who had gone suddenly quiet and tender under the eyes of that bird.

Odo didn’t answer. He just carefully squeezed another drop of formula into the radid’s beak and said, “We’ll call her Naj.”

“How do you know it’s a she?” Quark asked mid-chew. He was starving. Odo hadn’t let him eat in his office—although apparently that thing, sorry, Naj, was special enough to be allowed to perform the uncouth act of eating in Odo’s spartan space.

“Her tail. See how it has two tufts?”

There were two bony protuberances on the back of the radid, as pink and raw and naked as the rest of it—her. Quark nodded, more focused on his slug steak than the impromptu biology lesson he was getting from Odo.

“Males have eight.”

“Did you do any work today at all? Or did you just read about radids? Are you going to tell me the Telerite fables about them next? Or list the items they use in building their nests?” When Odo was so focused on feeding the radid that he didn’t respond, Quark continued, with a self-satisfied smirk. “It’s because you didn’t have me to go chasing after. If I’m stuck in your office all day suddenly you have no work to do at all. No one to harass. No one to hound. No one to persecute.” He made each verb land a little more impishly than the last. Goading Odo was what he did. He just wanted Odo to look up. “With me in your office there’s nothing on this entire station for you to do.”

“Hmph,” Odo snorted. “Preposterous.”

The radid made a little gurgling sound and turned her head away from the eyedropper. With a shake of her wings, like she was practicing for when she’d have feathers to smooth out, the radid hopped off Odo’s lap and over toward Quark. Odo set the eyedropper down somewhat dejectedly and Quark grinned.

“What’s that, Naj?” Quark cooed, his tone mocking, leaning down toward the bird as she took gawky, crooked steps across the floor. “Did you get tired of boring old Odo and his facts? Do you need some real affection?”

Odo crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch. “Poor thing doesn’t know what a terrible provider you are,” Odo said. “She just had the bad luck of imprinting on the least reliable person in your bar.”

“You’re just jealous.” Quark said. And Odo wouldn’t dignify the ridiculous statement with a response. Mostly because somehow it happened to be true.

\---

Quark had changed into his orange pajamas in the bathroom. The radid could survive without him in sight for at least that long, and he wasn’t going to let Odo watch him change. When he stepped back into Naj’s view she let out the most piercing shriek they had her from her yet. And that was saying a lot. Quark threw his hands over his ears and screamed. Odo looked back and forth between the two of them flabbergasted. The radid charged at Quark as quickly as it could, tripping over her own feet and falling to the floor twice before making it to Quark’s ankles. At least this distracted her enough that she stopped shrieking. She started stabbing at the cloth of Quark’s pajamas with her beak, its pointy cartilage breaking through in places and pricking at Quark’s toes.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Quark hopped from foot to foot, trying to escape Naj’s ire. “What’s it doing?”

“Careful!” Odo snapped. “You’ll step on her!” He rushed over and picked Naj up. In Odo’s hands, and without anything else she could do, she started shrieking again.

“Well that helped a lot!” Quark shouted and ran back into the bathroom.

Naj did quiet once Quark was out of sight. “Maybe she’s come to her senses about you,” Odo called at the bathroom’s closed door. But it was only a few moments later when Naj started sniffling with anxiety, and Odo could feel her pulse thrumming faster just beneath her loose, thin skin. She would be hyperventilating soon, and there would go one of the last remaining individuals of an endangered species.

“It’s your clothes.” Odo said.

“My what?”

“The shiny orange. It’s like the skin of one of their natural predators. A snake that slides into their nests and swallows eggs and hatchlings whole.”

“What?” Quark paused. “Did you find a copy of The Care and Keeping of Radids in the station’s computer or something? Planning on changing careers and going to work at that Klingon animal sanctuary I mentioned?”

“You can’t wear those pajamas,” Odo said simply. “And hurry up. Naj is getting panicky.”

Quark sighed so loudly it was audible through the door. A moment later he came out wrapped in a towel—Naj’s breathing immediately slowed—and walked over to his closet, shooing Odo out of the way with a wiggle of the hand that wasn’t clutching the towel.

He pulled a night shirt from the rack and held it up. “Will this do?” It was an olive green and looked incredibly soft.

“I don’t know. Will it, Naj?” Odo walked over to Quark so that she could inspect the material. Quark gripped the towel tighter around himself and glared up at Odo, bottom lip pushed out in a snit. The radid cocked her head and opened and shut her beak a few times, before making a querulous trilling noise. “I guess so.” Odo gave Quark his most patronizing grin, eyes practically shimmering with delight.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You probably did this on purpose. Mr. Radid whisperer over there. You knew all about them before you even opened that crate, didn’t you? This is all some devious scheme to keep me in your sights.”

“Not half so devious as you,” Odo said. “Don’t forget that you are the one who is entirely responsible for us being in this situation.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Because I wanted to end the day practically as naked as a female in front of the man who’s made it his life’s work to make my life’s work impossible!” Quark stalked back to the bathroom, muttering something about self-respecting Ferengi dressing themselves thank you very much.

Odo chuckled at his receding back and held the radid closer to his face. She peeped and made some kind of hacking noise when Quark disappeared. “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Odo agreed.


	3. Working Parents

After tossing and turning for an absurdly long amount of time Quark had finally fallen asleep. He lay curled in a tight ball, with Naj snuggled in the crook of his neck, her head beneath her wing. Odo had made a show of reading one of Chief O’Brien’s detective novels while Quark was attempting to doze off since Quark had insisted he couldn’t get comfortable with Odo staring at him. Odo would need to regenerate eventually, but he didn’t need to spend nearly as much time in his liquid state as solids did sleeping.

Now that Quark was asleep, snoring gently, Odo was staring. He hadn’t been before, when Quark claimed he was, but he was now. Quark’s wrinkled noise scrunched up a little tighter with each in breath and his exhalation whistled just a little, making the sleeve of his nightshirt flutter where his hand was balled up next to his cheek. Naj rose and fell ever-so-slightly as Quark’s shoulders did.

Odo didn’t think he’d ever seen Quark so still, and certainly not so quiet. It was disorienting, and disarming. He’d thought about using the opportunity to go through Quark’s things. There was undoubtedly contraband in these quarters. He’d decided against it, not wanting to accidentally disturb Naj’s rest. Radid chicks required an extensive amount of sleep it turned out. They really were the most fragile life form Odo had ever encountered.

Odo leaned forward, the PADD with his detective novel dangling forgotten in one hand. His elbow was propped up on his knee and his chin rested in the palm of his hand. He didn’t even realize he was staring. Or, to be more precise, it didn’t occur to him that this sort of staring was any different than the suspicious glaring and glowering he’d direct in Quark’s direction whenever they were in the same room. In a lot of ways it wasn’t much different.

The chill that spread through him when he’d been holding a shape for awhile was starting to grow in his limbs. He sighed, even though there was no one to hear the affectation and slid slowly out of the chair he’d been sitting in and onto the floor, melting as he went so that he ended up in a relaxed, shimmering lagoon across Quark’s ostentatious carpet.

\---

Naj was snuffling at the corner of Quark’s mouth. A little bit of drool had collected there and now she was snuffling at it. Quark waved her beak away. His neck was warm—and a little itchy—where she’d been roosting. He pulled his eyes open and yawned. He sat up and looked around. For a brief moment he thought Odo was gone, that the constable had given up his ridiculous attempt to keep Quark in sight until this little thing—this radid—this Naj—grew up enough to literally fly away, but then he saw the puddle on his floor.

Stretched out in front of the doorway out of his bedroom was Odo, in his liquid state. Quark had never been entirely sure how conscious Odo was when he was unshaped goo and he waited for the Constable to shift into his usual form, but he didn’t.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Naj perched next to him nuzzling her head against his thigh, Quark watched Odo undulate in the dim light of the room. His surface shimmered and Quark couldn’t help thinking he looked a bit like melted latinum. He had that gorgeous sheen that latinum got, that indescribable luminescence. Quark wondered what he would feel like if Quark dipped a finger in the puddle.

Then Naj started up with her “I’m hungry” peeping and Odo shot upright into his humanoid form so fast Quark barely saw it happen.

“What are you doing?” Odo growled, but he didn’t look threatening, he looked sheepish.

“Nothing!” Quark threw his hands up. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

Frowning, shoulders hunched, Odo turned and walked into the living room.

Quark followed and thrust Naj into Odo’s hands. “Here. You feed her. I have to get dressed. Some of us don’t pop awake in our boring beige uniform.”

As he rifled through the closet, and Odo sat dripping formula into Naj’s cavernous beak, Odo said, “Wear the red one. With the long tails. She’ll like it.”

“What?” That felt like all Quark had said for the past twenty-six hours.

“It’s the same color as a female radid’s plumage. And maybe the tails will remind her of radid hind feathers.”

“You’re telling me to dress up as a female—although that is a bit of an oxymoron. You’re telling me to dress up as a female bird.”

Odo shrugged. “You like that suit.”

“Who says?”

“You always wear it on the days after you’ve concluded a major transaction.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I completely lost a lucrative business deal yesterday. Thanks to you.”

Odo made a satisfied humming sound.

“Well, if you think it will keep her quiet. She’s already distracting enough.” Quark grabbed the suggested suit and retreated to the bedroom. When he came back out there was a bit more of a stride and a bit less of a shuffle to his step. He stopped in front of a mirror that hung by the bathroom and pulled out a few vials and jars from the chest of drawers below it.

Still delicately feeding Naj—who seemed truly insatiable—Odo watched Quark as he carefully smudged black around his eyes, painted the inside whorls of his ears to make their recesses seem deeper, dabbed something shiny on his lips, and powdered his whole face to make it just a touch more orange. Odo had never considered Quark’s make-up routine before, but it only made sense that he had one. Quark finished his painting with a flourish of his hands, as if he was enjoying being a spectacle, and turned toward Odo.

“Come on. I have a bar to open.”

“No. I have security reports to go over.”

“Bring them to the bar.” When Odo opened his mouth to reply Quark raised a finger, “It’s only fair. I spent all of yesterday in your place of business. You can spend today in mine. Besides, you spend half your working day in there anyway most of the time. This won’t be much different.”

“I will not allow this… situation to affect my work.”

“I am your work.” Quark grinned.

“We can open your bar,” Odo acquiesced, “and then we can go on my rounds.”

\---

They spent the day trading between one another’s work like that. Spending an hour or so doing something Quark had to do and an hour doing something Odo had to do. They both grumbled copiously about it. Naj rode along, sometimes in Odo’s arms, sometimes in Quark’s cooing and warbling and chirping contentedly, unless she was hungry. Whenever that happened both of them were forced to stop whatever they were doing and feed her.

They were walking their fourth round of the promenade—“Really? This is what you do all day? Walk in circles?” Quark had said. “The promenade allows me to study many of the station’s denizens and visitors at once,” Odo had snapped back.—when Naj started emitting that loud stream of high-pitched chirping they had become so familiar with. They stepped to the side and Quark pulled out the eyedropper. A few Bajorans stared at them as they walked past. Odo hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms, glowering at anyone who glanced their way for more than a moment.

Naj gurgled at the first few drips of formula, and then choked on the next. She let out a tiny cough.

“What are you doing to her?” Odo whirled on Quark.

“Nothing! Nothing! I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Plucking Naj from Quark’s arms Odo peered at her. She looked the same as she had all day. He grabbed the eyedropper from Quark and tried feeding her a few drips. She gurgled again and turned her beak away.

“We have to take her to Julian,” Odo said. He didn’t even notice that Quark didn’t argue.


	4. Solid Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special guest appearance by Julian and Jadzia!

The medical office appeared empty when Quark and Odo first stepped inside, but voices were coming from the lab and the pod of three hurried back that way. Odo was in front, Quark trailing just behind. He’d taken Naj back from Odo and curled her up inside his suit jacket. Odo had been right; she did seem partial to this particular color. “You exhausted her,” Quark was saying. “She’s a growing bird and she needs to rest, not see every centimeter of the station twenty times in one day!”

“You’re the one who insisted on keeping her in the bar with its loud noises and toxic chemicals! That’s no place for a fledgling to be!”

Odo stopped in the doorway to the lab and Quark bumped into him, making a sort of surprised squawk that sounded very much like a noise that could have come from Naj.

Julian and Jadzia were bent over a workstation, staring at a petri dish full of what looked like Denebian slime devil skin.

Julian looked up and sighed. “What do you want today? You do realize this isn’t a veterinary clinic?”

Jadiza looked up and grinned. “Oh! Is this the radid everyone’s talking about?”

“There’s something wrong with her!” Quark and Odo said in near synchronicity.

Odo plucked Naj out from under Quark’s coat and held her out to Julian. “She won’t eat. She can’t. She keeps coughing and choking.”

Reluctantly taking the radid Julian glanced between Quark and Odo and the almost identical fretful looks on their faces. When he moved over to a diagnostic table Odo followed him, hovering.

Stepping backward towards the wall Quark pressed up against it. He placed his palms flat on the cool surface and breathed slowly in and out.

“Congratulations on the little girl!” Jadzia said, moving over to stand beside him. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s in good hands—even if they claim not to belong to a vet. Don’t worry.”

“That’s a lot of profit sitting over there on that table,” Quark said.

“Right, profit. Of course. But you’re not making any money off her at this point, are you?”

“No,” Quark said glumly. “Naj is going to be shipped off to a Klingon animal sanctuary.”

“Naj?” Jadzia quirked an eyebrow. She’d been watching the medical examination on the opposite side of the room with Quark, but now she turned to face him, leaning one shoulder against the wall.

“Odo insisted on naming her. Said she wasn’t a ‘thing.’ Now we’re calling her Naj and Odo is going gooey eyed whenever he looks at her, well, a different kind of gooey eyed. You know what I mean.”

“Odo’s got a soft spot for foundlings.”

“But this time I can’t take advantage of it,” Quark said. “Instead I’m just stuck with him following me around. He’s practically a love-sick puppy—more distracted than I’ve seen him in months—and I can’t perform any of the many, legitimate business deals he wouldn’t notice in his current state because I’m stuck carrying around the thing he’s gone gooey eyed for! He was in my quarters last night! He slept there, or regenerated, or whatever. Right in the middle of my floor so I couldn’t even get out of my own bedroom!”

“Mm-hm,” Jadzia said. “I’m sure that’s very frustrating.”

Quark shot a glance at her out of the corner of his eyes and huffed. “You never have any sympathy for my plights.”

Over at the diagnostic table Julian was running a tricorder up and down the length of Naj’s neck. Odo leaned close. “What’s wrong with her, Doctor?”

“I’m trying to find that out.”

“It’s ridiculous that she imprinted on Quark. The least responsible humanoid on this entire station and now this poor little creature is literally depending on him for her survival. I haven’t been able to get a single thing done because I have to keep such a close eye on him making sure he’s keeping a close eye on her.”

Julian nodded absently as he continued to wave the tricorder around.

“I had to spend last night in his quarters. I know how you humanoids like your trinkets, but I had no idea you could fit so many into one space. I’m sure there are a thousand things in there she could’ve choked on or been crushed under. Is that what happened? Did she swallow something?”

Snapping the tricorder shut Julian turned back toward Odo, and raised his voice enough that Quark could hear, too. “She’s just grown up enough to eat solid food,” he said. “I’ll replicate you a seed and grain blend that you can feed her. You’ll still have to do it by hand for awhile. It’ll help if you mash it up a bit first, to make the transition as easy as possible.”

“You want us to chew her food for her?” Quark asked, mouth somewhat agape.

“I don’t particularly care,” Julian shrugged, “but she might appreciate it. Now, gentleman, if you don’t mind, I have some actual doctoring to do.”

\---

At the end of the day they returned to Quark’s quarters. Odo formed his hands into something resembling a mortar and pestle and ground some of the mixture Julian had given them. Quark ate a dinner of caramelized fen grasses and sauteed snail. They found that after more than twenty-six hours in each other’s company they’d almost run out of things to gripe at each other about, so, once their respective feedings were done, they both settled onto the couch, Naj between them, Odo reading his book and Quark watching a holo-novel.

After that Quark curled up in his bed, Odo spread himself on Quark’s floor, and the two of them fell into their respective versions of unconsciousness. Naj woke them in the morning with her peeping.

She spent that whole next day biting at herself. Her feathers were coming in and apparently this process itched terribly. Whichever one of them wasn’t doing his job during that hour worked hard to keep her from tearing her thin skin. Quark would drag his fingernails gently down her back and she would stop scratching for at least a moment. Odo would bounce her in his palm and she would flutter her wings in response.

That night, halfway through his holo-novel, Quark fell asleep, his head drooping against Odo’s shoulder. Odo looked over, saw Naj nestled in Quark’s lap, and decided it was best not to disturb any part of this configuration. A growing bird needed her rest.

When Quark woke up later, and sat up quickly realizing where his head had been, he glanced around the room, like he was looking for an excuse or an explanation for the position he had just found himself in. None was forthcoming, and so without discussing it both Quark and Odo silently agreed not to discuss it.


	5. Flying Lessons

The end of the next day found the three of them in a holosuite. Odo had programmed a forest like the ones radids usually nested in. Now, Odo and Quark were sitting precariously balanced on a branch with Naj standing on a twig in front of them. They’d been in there for almost two hours.

“Maybe she’s not ready yet,” Odo said.

Quark gave one of Naj’s sprouting tail feathers the gentlest poke, nudging her forward. Her claws stayed clamped around the tree limb.

“Most of her feathers have grown in,” Quark said. “She should be. Besides, radids are supposed to be stupidly reckless. That’s why this whole imprinting thing evolved in the first place.”

“We shouldn’t push her,” Odo insisted.

“You’re just trying to come up with excuses to keep your eyes on me. She should be ready to fly.”

Naj flapped her wings and looked like she was considering letting go of the branch. “That’s it!” Quark said. “You can do it, Naj!” She settled her wings and hunkered down on the branch.

A breeze gusted through the treetops and made the limb Odo and Quark were sitting on sway. Quark yelped and grabbed Odo’s arm, his knuckles going white. “Did you have to program a breeze?” He demanded.

“Quark,” Odo said, looking down at Quark’s blue fingernails where they dug into his arm—he’d seen Quark file and buff those fingernails now, and knew exactly how many times Quark dragged the rasp across each of them—“we are not 20 meters off the ground. If you fell you would hit the floor in approximately 50 centimeters. That’s the point of all of this. So that Naj can try out flying without hurting herself.”

Quark looked down between his feet at the forest floor which appeared to be 20 meters away however far it actually was. “What can I say?” Quark slowly released Odo’s arm. “My holosuites are top of the line and create a very immersive experience.”

Naj hopped on the branch, releasing her grip for a moment and then landing again. Quark leaned forward. She did that three more times and then settled back on it more firmly, shifting her feathers in a way that implied she would be hunkered down for a while.

“How long do you expect us to sit here?” Odo asked. “She’s not ready to fly.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m just as sick of being stuck with you as you are of being stuck with me,” Odo snapped. “That doesn’t mean you can rush Naj out of the nest.”

Quark recoiled and stared at Odo, looking surprised and hurt, which was not the expression either of them would have expected to find on his face. “I’m not—” Quark began, and then, realizing what he was about to say, shut his lips tight. After a moment he said, “Are you—?” tentatively, but stopped himself again. He pried one of his hands off the branch to wave it around, trying to dismiss the almost-said statements that hung in the air.

Odo just looked at Quark, unable to say anything in response, trying just as hard as Quark to pretend that nothing had been said. He frowned a little deeper and adjusted his shoulders, almost mimicking the way Naj ruffled her feathers these days. Finally he managed, “I have no wish to rush Naj out of the nest, either.”

Naj chirped and then, very slowly, walked back up the twig she’d been on. She hopped into Quark’s lap and chirped again. “Well,” Quark mumbled, “I guess we’re going back to my place.”

\---

Naj was snuffling at the corner of Quark’s ear, as was her habit in the morning, and there was something heavy on him. He shifted and opened his eyes one at a time. Trying to sit up he felt the unfamiliar weight on top of him and thrashed around. Naj squawked and tumbled off Quark’s shoulder onto the mattress, then somehow managed to knock herself off the mattress and onto the floor when she tried to resettle her wings.

“What is going on?” Quark mumbled, trying to make anything about this rude awakening make sense. And then the answer became clear. Odo sprung into his humanoid form, sitting jauntily on the bed next to Quark. The weight was gone.

“Were you sleeping on me?” Quark demanded, yanking himself to sit upright, and gathering the real covers—not the imposter he’d just been draped in—and clutching them to his chest.

“Naj was cold.”

“Excuse me?”

“I could tell. She had these little tremors. And you were hogging the blankets. I looked for more, but I couldn’t find any—I guess blankets aren’t used by Ferengi to display their wealth. Too practical an object for that. You’ve got to have the most ridiculous—”

Quark interrupted him. “So you just took it on yourself to become one?”

“Naj was cold,” Odo said again.

“It didn’t occur to you to ask how I felt about being crushed underneath a lump of solidified goo? How long were you there?” Quark demanded.

“Why does it matter?”

Naj peeped from the floor and Odo leaned over to pick her up, his body bending across Quark’s to reach the far side of the bed. Quark tried to shrink even smaller into himself.

“It matters.”

Cradling Naj, Odo stood up and headed toward the door. “Come on. I’ve got my first rounds at 0730. Maybe you should wear your blue and pink jacket today.”

Quark jumped out of bed, the night shirt Naj’s presence forced him to wear flapping around his calves. “I will do no such thing,” he insisted as he pushed past Odo to the bathroom.

\---

That night Naj did manage to hop off the branch, though she quickly crashed to the floor 50 centimeters below. Quark jumped off the branch, gathered her to his chest and insisted they take her home for the night. Odo hadn’t argued.

\---

Naj stood at the very edge of the branch the next evening. She would flutter her wings and Odo and Quark would lean forward, just a little. They didn’t even notice their shoulders brushing. She spread those wings wide, Quark sucked in a breath and held it. Then she dropped her wings again and Quark deflated.

“Maybe we should take her back to Julian,” Quark suggested. “Maybe there really is something wrong with her.”

Odo shook his head. “She’s fine. She’s just a, what do humans say? A late bloomer? We don’t want to make her feel like there’s something wrong with her.”

Quark peered up at Odo from under an eye ridge. “Remind you of someone?”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just seems to me like you might have something in common with a ‘late bloomer.’ Especially one who was worried there was something wrong with them.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Odo scoffed.

Five days ago Quark might have picked at that chink more, might have mocked Odo for his affinity to an ugly orphaned fledgling. Now he simply took satisfaction in knowing the chink was there, in having found the soft spot, and was actually happier to cover that tenderness back up rather than drag it into the light.

Naj hopped up and spread her wings at the same time. Then she landed. Quark rolled his eyes and settled deeper onto the branch. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It’s more exhausting than keeping your eye on both the ball and the cards during a championship tongo match.”

“Just keep reminding yourself, “Odo said, “that you don’t have any latinum riding on the outcome of this. You’re not selling her either way.”

“I know, I know. I should’ve set up a betting pool though! Especially given how long it’s taking her. I would’ve been raking it in. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Spending so much time right next to your law-and-order nonsense is clearly having a negative effect on me.” He stared at Naj for a minute more. “Although, if you’re coming up with schemes like that, I must be rubbing off on you, too.”

Naj hopped. Odo and Quark leaned forward. She landed. Quark and Odo sighed.

Naj hopped. Odo and Quark leaned forward. She landed. Quark and Odo sighed.

Naj hopped. Odo and Quark leaned forward. She spread her wings and glided forward.

Quark yelped. Odo grinned. And, in their respective glee, they threw themselves into a congratulatory hug. It was a moment later that Quark felt the way his chest was heaving against Odo’s and his pulse was racing, that Odo felt how tightly he was gripping Quark.

There was a quiet thump and a plaintive squawk and Odo and Quark sprung away from each other. Naj’s first flight had ended in a crash and she lay on the simulated forest floor, looking unhurt but confused. Odo jumped off the branch after her and Quark tried to grab him, his hand clasping only air, forgetting yet again that the ground was nowhere as far away as it looked.

They stayed in the holosuite awhile longer, sitting stiffly beside each other and speaking only to encourage Naj as she continued to refine her wobbly coasting skills. She hadn’t quite figured out how to do anything but make her downward trajectories somewhat more controlled by the time the three of them left, but her progress was obvious.


	6. Empty Nest

Naj was gliding from the upper level of the bar to the lower, landing on a spinning dabo wheel, soaring back up, corkscrewing around the spiral staircase, skimming across the countertop knocking over drinks and just generally being a nuisance. It was easy to get the impression that she was showing off.

“Odo!” Quark yelled. “Could you maybe do something to stop your horrid bird from ruining my customers’ experience.”

“I believe that’s your horrid bird you’re talking about.” Odo was leaning back against the bar, at the end near the dart board. For once he was in the place without keeping an eye on all the corners, or glaring at Quark’s back, or peering into the shadows. He was simply watching Naj.

“I’m not making any money off her. She’s not mine.”

Odo hopped up onto the counter and Quark came running at him, ready to shove him off, shouting about blatant disrespect for property. Just as he made it to Odo’s side, Odo shifted into an approximation of a radid and flapped up off the counter. He soared in spirals around the bar, too and Quark was left to gape at them.

When one of radids came back down and alit on Quark’s shoulder he scratched behind the radid’s head and ran a hand down the tail feathers. This was the habit he’d picked up in the last few days. Naj always cooed when he did it and Odo had said this particular sort of grooming and preening was a social bonding ritual between the birds. Quark watched Odo soar—Odo did seem to be slightly more mindful of the furniture, though Quark was sure he’d never admit it—and stroked the smooth feathers of the radid on his shoulder.

A moment later Quark felt the radid on his shoulder wiggle in an unfamiliar way, then hop off his shoulder, and suddenly shoot up into the form of Odo beside him. Quark screamed and jumped away—half the bar turned to stare at him.

“You—” Quark spluttered. “You— How dare—” He stopped to stare accusingly at his hand, as if it had betrayed him. “You—”

Odo smiled that smug smile. “Yes. Me. I’ve still got to keep you on your toes, Quark.”

Quark shrugged his shoulders up to his ears and then resettled them. He glowered down at the bar and rubbed at it thoroughly with a dish rag. He felt foolish more than angry and felt heat rising to his cheeks that he refused to let Odo see.

Tomorrow one of the Klingons from the animal sanctuary was coming to collect Naj. Then this wouldn’t happen anymore.

\---

Odo and Quark stood outside the airlock. There was a large enclosure at their feet, but it was empty and Naj was sitting on top of it. She’d gotten big fast and was almost the length of Quark’s forearm now. She butted her head up against his thigh and cooed.

Odo reached down and ran his hand along her back feathers, murmuring something so quietly even Quark couldn’t make it out.

“Do you think he can be trusted?” Quark asked, staring straight ahead.

“Who?”

“This Klingon. This stranger we’re about to hand Naj over to. You know just how valuable she is. What if he’s an imposter?”

“He’s not an imposter, Quark.” Odo was looking down at Naj and ruffling the soft down on her shoulders. She kept cooing and rubbing her forehead against Quark. “I did an extensive background check on him, and the animal sanctuary. I make it a point to thoroughly vet absolutely any recommendation that comes from you.”

“Well,” Quark said. “Just making sure. You never can be too careful with exotic animals.”

Odo grunted. “You should know.”

There was that final thunking noise that meant the ship was fully docked, and then the grinding of the first airlock door. As the second one rolled open it was accompanied by a hiss of air, which was warmer than the station’s usual temperature and smelled faintly earthy. Naj turned her head at the noise and the smell and made an inquisitive peep. A Klingon ambled through the airlock and grinned at all three of them. “Well met! I am Turg.” He was tall and he wore his hair, which was graying at the temples, in a loose bun knotted at the back of his head.

“Hello,” Odo said.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Quark added.

“This is the little radid I have come for?” He crouched down in front of Naj, hands on his knees to brace himself, and his amiable grin widened.

She stared back at him, head cocked, and trilled. It was her friendly noise, the one she had used to greet most of the people Quark and Odo had introduced her to.

“I guess she is,” Quark said.

Odo pulled his hand off Naj’s back and clenched it by his side. “Her name is Naj.”

Turg made a trilling noise of his own, a close impersonation of the radid call—the Klingon language with its rolling and guttural sounds had many acoustic similarities to the variety of noises Naj made. He picked Naj up off the cage she was sitting on, and she seemed quite happy to be lifted. “You will like where you are going,” he said to the bird solemnly. And then he looked up at Quark and Odo. “I swear that to you.”

“On your honor?” Quark didn’t entirely sound like he was joking.

“On my honor.” Turg stood, bringing Naj up with him (she remained happily perched in his palm), and nodded solemnly. Then he broke back out into the grin he’d greeted them with. “I’ll get her settled on the ship and then I have plans for dinner. An old friend of mine runs a restaurant on your promenade. I intend to see whether his gagh is as fresh as he swears. It seems unlikely in a place like this. I mean no offense.”

Odo shrugged, uncaring.

“Well, while I’m sure his gagh is better than mine,” Quark said, “I have an excellent vintage of blood wine. You should stop by my bar to end your evening.”

Turg laughed and clapped Quark on the shoulder. Quark wobbled a bit. “Perhaps I shall!” Then he picked up Naj’s cage and meandered back through the airlock. Naj stared over the Klingon’s shoulder at Quark and Odo as he carried her away. She didn’t look particularly distraught, and Quark and Odo did their best not to either.

They stood next to each other in silence for a moment after the airlock had hissed closed. Quark rubbed his palms against his pant legs. Odo cleared his throat. Quark tilted his head from one side to the other, cracking his neck. Odo stiffened his shoulders, standing up straighter.

“Well,” Odo began as Quark said, “I guess—” They both stopped but they didn’t turn to look at each other, just kept staring straight ahead.  
“There are feathers all over my quarters,” Quark said. “And it’s your fault. You’re going to help me clean them up.”

“Are you sure you want that? I’d imagine you could find someone to sell radid feathers to.”

“I probably could. But you wouldn’t let me.”

“You’re right about that.”

Quark turned toward his quarters, and Odo matched his stride.

After they’d removed the down and fluff and feathers from Quark’s quarters Odo settled onto the couch with his detective story, Quark sat down next to him with his holonovel. Neither of them acknowledged that their avian excuse for being in one another’s presence was no longer there.


	7. Epilogue

The Klingon animal sanctuary was awash in acoustic and visual stimuli. At least six distinct bird calls, buzzing from seventeen species of insect, the hooting of a primate, and the lowing of some other mammal could be heard. The air was overwhelmingly scented with dark earth and the riotous smells of a multitude of flowering species. The damp air sat heavily on Quark and Odo’s skin. The humidity reminded Quark of Ferenginar and he relished in it.

“Naj!” Quark’s voice was high and coaxing.

There were a myriad animal noises after Quark’s call, but none of them were a response to it.

“Naj!” Odo sounded more like he was grumbling, embarrassed to call too loudly for the bird.

They walked farther into the sanctuary, calling occasionally, enjoying the sights and scents and sounds even as they looked and listened for one thing in particular. Finally, there was a loud caw, and a streak of shimmering black, like an oil slick, and a bird landed on a branch just a little bit in front of them.

“Naj?” Quark asked.

She tilted her head and made her peeping ‘I’m hungry’ noise. The sound they both had heard from her more than any other. She jumped to the ground in front of them and butted her head against their legs, cooing. Both of them reached down to scratch behind her head and stroke her tail feathers.

“Ah!” There was a loud voice from behind them. “She’s found you, I see,” Turg said. “She’s been having a grand time here. Made lots of friends—and not just with other radids. There are a pair of gilvos who are quite fond of her, not to mention a few Klingons.”

He grinned when Quark and Odo turned to look at him. “She’s very glad to see you, though. I can tell.”

After a moment in which Quark and Odo didn’t seem to know what to say Turg clapped his hands together. “Well, I’ll leave you to your reunion.” He disappeared into the foliage, cooing some other bird call as he went.

Naj made a series of chirps and warbles and then rose into the air. She wheeled around Quark and Odo, rising slowly higher. Their fingers were wrapped around each other as they watched her ascend. When she cut through a beam of sunlight she sparkled brighter than latinum. When Quark and Odo tilted their heads back to watch her soar they leaned into each other, hands squeezing tight.


End file.
